Chapter 8
“Sooo, you said that she said that ‘fire and ash’ is where you'll find answers.” Ellie makes a face as she rubs down the dark purple dragon egg, her fingers tracing the smooth, warm shell.
Hiccup exhales sharply, rolling his eyes. “Yes, but I have no idea where ‘fire and ash’ is supposed to be.”
Ellie frowns in thought, then quickly but gently places the egg back into the pit of dragonfire Toothless had started, nestled safely under his wing. Something about dragonfire and a dragon nesting over the eggs, Hiccup had explained, was a crucial substitute for a mother’s presence. Without it, the eggs might never hatch.
“Maybe we’ll find answers at the Citadel,” she suggests, glancing toward the west, where Oldtown lies.
They had yet to make the journey, but it had been on their list since arriving at their temporary home in a cave deep within the Red Mountains of Dorne. It hadn’t taken them long to travel across the continent, less than a fortnight, though they had stopped here and there for rest. Ellie had seen the high speeds at which Toothless could fly, how he blurred across the land faster than any creature she’d ever witnessed, yet she had been mildly disappointed by the slow, steady pace they had taken.
Of course, carrying cargo had slowed them down.
She’d been nervous flying with the eggs at first, but Hiccup had reassured her that they were well secured, hanging in a net beneath Toothless as they soared high above the clouds. Even so, she had kept a wary eye on them the entire way.
Hiccup follows her gaze west, his face shifting into the familiar thoughtful expression she now calls his “thinking face.”
After a long pause, he finally nods. “We’ll leave tomorrow. Maybe we can hitch a ride with a traveling merchant into the city.”
Ellie nods, turning her attention to Toothless, who is curled up on the far side of the cave. The soft glow of firelight flickers across his dark scales, illuminating him in rippling waves of gold. “What about Toothless? Won’t he be lonely?”
At the sound of his name, the dragon cracks open one large green eye, but upon seeing no immediate danger, he simply huffs and nestles back into his coils.
“He’ll be fine,” Hiccup assures her, “besides, it’s crucial for him to nurse the magic in the eggs. They’ll probably take longer to hatch without their moth—”
“—er, but with Toothless being the Alpha, it should suffice.” Ellie finishes with a smug grin. “Yes, I know. You explained it all before, Maester Hiccup.”
She laughs as he huffs, rolling his eyes at the teasing title she always gives him when he gets in one of his teaching moods.
In response, he tosses a bag at her. Ellie’s training has sharpened her reflexes, and she catches it with ease. “Pack some stuff. We’ll be staying in the city for a few days, maybe a week or two. We’ll come back to check on Toothless every other day, bring him food and water, but we shouldn’t disrupt the hatching process.”
She nods and heads over to her bedroll, where her bags lie open with clothes haphazardly stuffed inside. Kneeling, she rifles through them, picking out a few shirts and pants suited for the heat. She lifts one to her nose and gives it a quick sniff before deeming it acceptable.
Behind her, Hiccup is doing the same, the quiet rustling of fabric filling the cave.
“What do you know about Princess Helaena?”
Ellie freezes mid-motion, blinking. She drops the shirt she was holding and turns toward him. He’s crouched over his pack, neatly folding his clothes, far more meticulous than her own mess.
She bites her lip, thinking. Her encounters with the princess had been few and fleeting, but…
“Well, she was always kind. The smallfolk love her for it. Never quick to anger, either. She has a dragon that she visits often—flies with, too.” Ellie pauses, recalling the soft-spoken girl. “She collects bugs. And she never really cared for court gossip.”
Hiccup hums, folding another shirt.
Ellie hesitates, then unconsciously glances around the cave, as if someone might overhear. “But… she knew things.”
Hiccup looks up. “What do you mean?”
Ellie shifts uncomfortably. “She used to whisper strange things to me. Mama said some people are touched by the gods—that their bodies can’t contain the power given to them, so they’re different.”
She isn’t sure if she believes that, but when she catches the look of reverence on Hiccup’s face, the way he whispers “völva” under his breath, she feels a shiver of uncertainty.
Determined to shake it off, she continues. “Prince Aegon wasn’t very nice to her. He teased her constantly—until one day, she got so angry she slapped him. Hard.”
Ellie snorts, remembering the prince’s red face and teary eyes. “He hasn’t bothered her since.”
She glances at Hiccup, who now wears a small smile, clearly amused.
Ellie moves toward the water basin, soaking a cloth and wiping the sweat and dirt from her face. “She was always partial to her other brother. Prince Aemond.”
At that, Hiccup raises a brow.
Ellie rinses the cloth, draping it over a rock to dry. “Prince Aemond was kind to her. Kind to a lot of people, actually.”
She sits on her bedroll, running her fingers through her hair as a soft smile plays on her lips. “He doesn’t ride a dragon. His brother and cousins tease him for it.”
She carefully begins braiding her hair, like Hiccup taught her, as she continues. “He’s good with a sword. Better than his cousins, even though they’re the same age.”
Hiccup remains silent.
Ellie flips her braid over her shoulder and grabs her sword and whetstone, placing both on her lap. “Oh! And he’s also—”
She stops abruptly, realizing the cave has gone completely quiet.
She looks up and finds Hiccup staring at her with wide eyes and a knowing smirk.
Ellie frowns. “What?”
Hiccup’s lips twitch. “Nothing.”
Toothless lets out a low, amused rumble, his eyes narrowing in clear mirth.
Her frown deepens. “What?!”
Hiccup bursts into laughter, and Toothless follows, his deep crows of amusement echoing through the cave. Ellie’s face burns.
With a growl, she snatches the rag and throws it at Hiccup, who easily catches it. She then hurls the whetstone at Toothless, who simply shifts his head, letting it bounce harmlessly off the wall.
“You’re both insufferable,” she huffs, crossing her arms.
Hiccup finally calms down, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Sorry, sorry.” His grin remains wide. “But seriously—I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
Ellie scowls. “Pfft. That’s such a stupid answer.”
She mutinously grabs her bundle of carefully rationed sweets and pops one into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated satisfaction.
“Oh, come on, Ells, don’t be like that.”
She pointedly ignores him.
Hiccup sighs before suddenly grabbing her ankle and flipping her upside down.
Ellie lets out a startled shriek as the world tilts, the cave spinning around her. “Hiccup!”
“I’m shaking the grump out of you!” he declares, spinning her lightly.
Ellie kicks and flails, but soon, she’s laughing too hard to fight back. When she gasps for breath, Hiccup relents, setting her gently back on her feet.
Still catching her breath, she turns to him and squints. “You promise to tell me when I’m older?”
Hiccup grins and holds out his pinky. “Pinky promise.”
Ellie hooks her smallest finger around his. It’s a strange gesture, one she’s never known before, but Hiccup has kept every pinky promise he’s made.
As they let go, Hiccup’s gaze flicks to her bag of sweets.
“Hey, can I have one?”
Ellie pauses for effect. Then—“No.”
His squawk of outrage sends her darting from the cave in laughter, Hiccup hot on her heels.
They walked down the long, worn road toward Oldtown, the only sounds accompanying them were the rhythmic clink of Hiccup’s peg leg, the crunch of loose stones under their boots, and the occasional rustle of leaves as a breeze passed through the trees.
They had left at dawn, stopping only to wash the sweat and grime of travel from their skin in one of the many rivers that wound through the mountains. The southern heat clung to them even in the early hours, but the cool water had helped ease the worst of it.
Now, the sky was shifting from the softest blues and purples to streaks of orange and gold, signaling the sun's slow ascent. Ellie, usually brimming with energy, was unusually quiet. She trudged behind him, blinking sluggishly as she fought off the lingering exhaustion from her restless night.
Her excitement over finally exploring the city had kept her up far too long, polishing her sword, laying out her clothes, chattering away about all the places she wanted to see. Now, that same excitement seemed to have drained from her entirely, leaving her sluggish and half-asleep as they moved down the near-empty road.
Hiccup had hoped they’d come across a wagon traveling to the city, giving Ellie a chance to rest, but he hadn’t accounted for how unused this road was. Few people passed through, and so far, they hadn’t seen a single cart heading their way.
They continued in silence, the forest gradually waking around them. Birds chirped in the branches above, small critters rustled through the underbrush, and the wind whispered through the leaves. Every so often, Ellie would pause to inspect something, a peculiar rock, an unusual plant, a particularly large beetle, before hurrying to catch up.
The sky burned with the vibrant colors of sunrise, the warm hues casting flickering shadows through the trees. It was peaceful, until Ellie suddenly shifted closer to his side.
Hiccup followed her gaze, spotting a figure crouched beside a broken-down wagon a short way down the road. The man was dressed in a dirt-streaked vest and trousers, grumbling as he wrestled with a dislodged wheel. A small, tired-looking horse stood harnessed to the cart, shifting its weight impatiently.
The man hadn’t noticed them yet, too absorbed in muttering curses under his breath.
Hiccup and Ellie slowed their steps, allowing the scuff of their boots to announce their presence. When the man still didn’t look up, Hiccup cleared his throat and gave a small, polite cough.
The reaction was immediate.
“Seven hells!” The man yelped, nearly toppling over as he scrambled to his feet. In his panic, he tripped over the discarded wheel, but Hiccup caught him by the arm before he could hit the ground.
“Sorry about that,” the old man huffed, patting his chest as he steadied himself. “Didn’t hear you coming.”
He brushed dirt from his hands and extended one toward Hiccup with a sheepish grin. “Arthur’s the name. What can I do for you?”
Hiccup took the offered hand in a firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m Hiccup, and this is Ellie. We saw you struggling with your wagon and figured we’d offer some help.”
Ellie gave a nod of agreement beside him, her sleepiness momentarily forgotten.
Arthur’s brows lifted in surprise before glancing back at his wagon with a considering tilt of his head. “Ah, yes. Damn wheel got caught in a hole. One tug, and off it went.”
He scratched the back of his head, looking exasperated.
Hiccup stepped closer to examine the damage himself. “Doesn’t look too bad. I can fix it.”
“Lad, I don’t think you can lift that cart on your own—” Arthur began, but cut himself off when Hiccup, without hesitation, grabbed hold and lifted the side of the wagon with ease. The man’s eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Ellie stifled a laugh as Arthur fumbled to fit the wheel back onto the axle. Once in place, Hiccup gently set the cart down, grabbing a nearby hammer and pin to secure it properly. A few swift strikes later, the wheel was good as new.
Arthur kicked it once, testing its stability, then let out an approving grunt. “Perfectly set. You’ve got some skill, lad.”
“Glad to help.” Hiccup dusted off his hands. “No payment needed.”
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Hiccup waved him off.
Before he could step away, something in the distance caught his eye, a flash of movement. Shiny white fur. Tall antlers.
Hiccup’s head snapped toward it, but in the blink of an eye, the figure was gone.
A trick of the light? No. He knew what he saw.
He frowned but forced himself to shake it off, turning his attention back to Ellie. She had wandered over to the horse, murmuring to it softly while running a hand down its face.
“Okay, kiddo, we’re done here. Let’s get moving.”
Ellie nodded, grabbing her pack from where she’d set it down, and returned to his side.
Arthur, now settled onto the front seat of the wagon, called out, “Where are you two headed, anyway?”
“Oldtown.” Hiccup glanced northwest, toward the distant city.
Arthur let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the walk on foot.” He tapped the seat beside him. “How about you ride with me? I’m heading in that direction anyway. It’s the least I can do for your help.”
Hiccup hesitated, then gave a nod. “Alright, then.”
Arthur grinned, maneuvering the cart closer.
Hiccup helped Ellie onto the back of the wagon before climbing up to sit beside the older man. As they set off down the road, Arthur cast him a curious glance.
“So, where are you from, Hiccup?”
“How about this one?” Ellie holds up a map detailing the city and its more well-known locations.
Hiccup takes it, turning it this way and that before giving a satisfied nod. “This should work.” He grabs another identical map and hands over the necessary coins.
Ellie takes the one he hands her, eagerly unfolding it. She runs her finger along the winding roads, reading over the descriptions of important landmarks and districts.
“Here.” Hiccup taps a section on his map, drawing her attention. “Arthur mentioned a few decent inns in this district. Should be suitable for our stay.”
Ellie glances at her own map, cross-referencing the area. She traces a potential route in her mind, mapping out the streets they’d need to take.
“Should we head there first?” she asks, looking up at him.
Hiccup thinks for a moment before nodding. “That’d be best. We can get some rest and start making plans tomorrow.” He rolls up his map, slipping it into his pack before offering her his arm.
Ellie quickly tucks her own map into her pocket, gripping his arm as they start walking. Her excitement bubbles over, and soon she’s rambling about the adventure ahead, her voice full of energy as they weave through the bustling streets of Oldtown.
It’s late in the day, the sky deepening into shades of orange and pink as the sun steadily descends in the west. The hum of the city drifts up from the streets below, a steady, lively noise that filters into the small rented room where Ellie sits, swinging her legs idly on the cot.
She sighs, already bored.
Their room is simple, two cots pressed against opposite walls, a small wooden table between them, and a single window above it, which lets in the salty breeze from the harbor. The door, a stubborn, creaky thing, sticks every time it’s opened, needing a firm shove to get it to budge. In the corner, a small chest holds their packs, a candle flickering steadily atop it, casting a soft, warm glow.
Ellie had hoped they’d explore Oldtown after settling in. After all, they’d rested plenty after their long journey. But Hiccup, ever cautious, had told her to wait, warned her not to run off before she understood the layout of the city. You’ll just get lost, or worse, get yourself into trouble, he’d said.
She huffs at the memory. He worries too much.
Pushing herself off the bed, she pads over to the window and swings it open, then crawls onto the sill, resting her elbows on the frame as she takes in the city below.
Oldtown is nothing like King’s Landing. Where the capital was cramped, gray, and reeking of filth, Oldtown is sprawling, its winding streets bustling with color and life. The grand, white tower of the Hightower dominates the skyline, its flame already flickering against the darkening sky. Ships drift lazily in the harbor, their sails tinged gold in the evening light. Even from here, she can hear the shouts of merchants, the chatter of passersby, the occasional laugh from the tavern below as the evening crowd settles in.
Tom would’ve loved this.
A pang strikes her chest at the thought of her brother, duller than before, but still there. He would have dragged her through every street, eager to see what secrets the city held. No fear, no hesitation. She blinks against the sting in her eyes. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore.
Hiccup helped. His presence, his unwavering kindness, made it easier to carry the weight of her grief. He wasn’t just a friend; he had become something more. Like an older brother, maybe even a father in some ways. He taught her things no one else had, held her when she woke up from nightmares, reassured her in ways no one ever had before.
She lets the breeze cool her face as she watches the city lights flicker to life below. The tavern beneath their room grows noisier, voices rising with the promise of ale and stories.
Then, she hears it, the steady rhythm of boots on the stairs, the soft clink of a peg leg against wood.
A thump. A muttered curse.
Ellie turns just as the door creaks open, and Hiccup shuffles inside, carefully balancing two bowls of stew in one hand, a loaf of bread tucked under his arm, and two mugs clenched in his fingers.
She snickers as he struggles to push the door shut with his back, his expression one of sheer concentration.
“Need some help?” she teases, hopping down from the window.
“Little late for that.” He huffs, barely managing to keep the bowls from spilling as she relieves him of the mugs, setting them on the table.
He places one bowl in front of her with a flourish. “Hope you’re hungry.”
Ellie grins as she rips off a chunk of bread and dips it into the stew. “Starving.”
Hiccup snorts as she all but inhales her food, shaking his head as he digs into his own.
They eat in comfortable silence for a moment before Hiccup speaks. “I’d like to go to the Citadel tomorrow, see what I can learn about the place before we start poking around.”
Ellie looks up from her bowl, following his gaze to the tall, white tower in the distance. She hums, gesturing for him to continue.
“You can come with me,” he says, tearing off a piece of bread. “But I know you’ve been itching to explore the city. I don’t feel comfortable letting you go alone.”
She immediately frowns, opening her mouth to argue, but he raises a hand, cutting her off.
“But,” he says, a knowing glint in his eyes, “I’ve decided you’re capable enough now to explore a few districts on your own—within reason.”
Ellie perks up, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”
“You can’t go farther than the east side of the city,” he says, dunking his bread into the broth. “And you have to meet me for lunch at the cart that sold the turkey legs.”
Ellie bites her lip, thinking it over. The deal is fair, more than fair.
Finally, she nods and extends her hand across the table. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Hiccup shakes her hand, amusement flickering across his face.
They finish their meal, chatting idly as they clean up, the candlelight flickering between them. Ellie grins, already thinking about what she’ll see tomorrow.
A new city. A new adventure.
And, for once, the freedom to explore it.
Hiccup stands at the entrance of Scribe’s Hearth, his gaze drawn upward to the imposing green sphinxes that guard the gate. Their stone faces are weathered but regal, staring down at those who pass beneath them. Beyond the gate, the square is alive with scholars, scribes, and merchants, their stalls filled with stacks of books, scrolls, and parchment. The scent of ink and old paper lingers in the air, mixing with the familiar sea breeze drifting in from the harbor.
He glances back toward the bridge he just crossed, still bustling with merchants selling everything from fine silks to trinkets from distant lands. His eyes skim the crowd, searching for any sign of Ellie. She had darted off as soon as they parted ways, eager to explore on her own. He hesitates, concern tugging at the edges of his mind, but ultimately, he forces himself to turn away. She’ll be fine. She knows the city boundaries. Besides, she can handle herself.
Pushing his worries aside, he steps through the gate.
The Hearth is a maze of knowledge, and Hiccup finds himself quickly absorbed in its offerings. He weaves through the crowd, pausing at various stalls, some selling beautifully bound tomes with gilded edges, others displaying stacks of yellowed scrolls covered in tight, careful script.
He can’t help but think of his father. Of Stoick’s belief that knowledge didn’t matter unless it served the tribe. Of Astrid. Of the home he might never see again.
This was his chance to make it count.
He watches a man perched on a stool, animatedly reading aloud from a scroll, his dramatic retelling of a pirate lord’s adventures drawing a captivated audience.
Further along, a merchant tries to convince him to buy parchment that never gets wet, demonstrating by pouring water over a sheet. Hiccup isn’t convinced, but he hums in amusement before slipping away.
An hour passes before he finally pulls himself from the distractions and approaches a quieter stall tucked in the corner of the square. An older man sits behind a small table, hunched over as he fiddles with a quill. His right eye is a dull gray, clouded over, while his left is sharp and alert, flicking toward Hiccup as he nears.
“Excuse me,” Hiccup says, offering a polite nod. “I was hoping you could help me.”
The man sets down the quill, his one good eye sweeping over him. “What can I do for you?” His voice is low and raspy, barely audible over the murmuring crowd.
Hiccup leans in slightly. “I’m looking for the entrance to the Citadel. I was hoping to take a look at some of the books held there.” He flashes his most winning smile.
The man snorts. “You can’t just walk into the Citadel and read whatever you like.” He settles back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Got to be accepted as a student. Only maesters—or those training to be one—get access. That, or you need to be a noble with the right connections.” His eye narrows slightly. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“History,” Hiccup answers smoothly. “Specifically, Valyria.” He doesn’t mention why—or what else he’s looking for. No need to invite unnecessary attention.
At that, the man’s expression shifts, his rough exterior easing slightly. “Valyria, huh?” He rubs a hand over his bearded chin, thinking. “Well, you won’t find much out here, and you won’t get near the real records in the Citadel. Even if you were a maester, most of what’s left is locked away. The Targaryens hold most of what survived, and they don’t share easily.”
Hiccup frowns. “That doesn’t seem fair. Everyone should be able to learn.”
The man lets out a dry chuckle, nodding absently. “Aye, but fairness doesn’t mean much in places like this.” He glances toward the towering structure of the Citadel before continuing. “Only woman to ever set foot in there was Queen Alysanne, and that was because she was the queen. The rest of us don’t get that privilege.” He picks up his quill again, tapping it against the table. “If you’re looking for Valyrian history, you’re better off finding someone who’s been to Essos. They might know more than any maester here.”
Hiccup hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the towering Hightower. Essos… Valyria… fire and ash. He tucks that information away for later.
A quick glance at the sun tells him it’s almost midday. He needs to meet Ellie soon.
“Well, thanks for your time,” Hiccup says, nodding in farewell.
The man grunts in acknowledgment, already returning to his work as Hiccup turns away, stepping back into the flow of the crowd, his mind turning over the possibilities.
Helaena watches the chaos unfold from the shadows of an alcove near the Small Council chamber. The hurried footsteps of guards echo through the corridors, their shouts mixing with the distant clamor of the Red Keep. She isn’t much of a sneak, not in the way Aegon might be, but her visions have been coming more frequently—pulling her toward moments like this.
She presses herself further into the heavy drapes as a servant rushes past, head bowed. Only when the sound of footsteps fades does she turn her attention back to the thin wall, her ear nearly pressed against it, catching the tail end of the conversation that had drawn her here in the first place.
“THE EGGS ARE GONE!”
The King’s roar shakes the chamber, followed by the sharp crack of his fist slamming against the table. Helaena flinches, though she remains still, straining to listen.
Silence stretches in response—uncertain, hesitant. No one dares answer. It is rare for their father to lose his temper, and even rarer for it to be directed at the entire council.
“It’s as I said, Father,” Rhaenyra finally speaks, her tone measured but edged with frustration. “My sons came to me in distress after they visited the dragonpit. They were searching for an egg for Joffrey, but when they arrived, all of them were gone.”
Helaena imagines her half-sister standing tall, her face set in a frown of barely concealed outrage.
“Everyone must understand the gravity of this crime,” Rhaenyra continues, sweeping a glance over the council. “The eggs were stolen—our legacy stolen—from under our noses. And we have no idea how.”
The Queen scoffs quietly from her seat, the sharp sound barely masked beneath the tension in the room. Helaena doesn’t need to see to know that her mother’s face has pinched in disapproval.
Rhaenyra’s gaze shifts toward her, her expression unreadable but laced with something accusatory. “My son and any of my future children deserve an egg in their cradle as is their birthright.”
The room stirs.
The council members exchange glances, uncertain whether they should involve themselves in this argument between the King’s wife and his heir. Helaena can hear the sneer creeping into Rhaenyra’s voice, though she cuts herself off when the King, in a rare display of fury, sweeps his arm across the table.
The sound of goblets crashing to the floor makes Helaena grip the fabric of her gown tightly.
“I think,” Rhaenyra presses on, regaining her composure, “that we must consider the likelihood that the culprit is someone with access to the dragonpit. As you know, only Targaryens and their kin are allowed near the dragons.”
There’s a heavy pause.
“Mayhaps we should consider that the eggs were taken by someone who frequents the pit.” Her words are smooth, but the hidden accusation curls at the edges, slithering toward a target.
Helaena already knows who she’s referring to.
“If you’re implying that Aemond had something to do with this, then—”
“Not now, Alicent!” Viserys snaps, cutting their mother off. His voice is weary, and Helaena can hear the exhaustion in the way he exhales heavily through his nose. “You are misinterpreting. Rhaenyra would never accuse the boy of such a thing.”
Rhaenyra lowers her lashes demurely, saying nothing, letting their father speak for her.
The King sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’re right, of course. Someone who spends time near the dragons would have known exactly where to look.” He gestures toward a waiting servant. “Bring me the dragonkeepers.”
The servant bows quickly and rushes out of the room.
Viserys slumps into his chair, his hand clenching and unclenching on the armrest. “We will handle this discreetly. There will be no word of this beyond this chamber.”
“My King,” the Lord Hand begins cautiously, “perhaps it would be wise to involve the Citadel. A letter could be sent—”
“NO.” Viserys’ voice, sharp with authority, silences the room. “We cannot allow word to spread. The dragons are our strength. If our enemies knew that our legacy had been compromised, it would invite disaster. We will find the culprit ourselves and see them punished accordingly.”
Rhaenyra nods, laying a hand over their father’s clenched fist in quiet support.
The rest of the council sits stiffly, exchanging uneasy looks. Helaena can feel the shift in the room—many of them don’t understand the depth of what’s just occurred. But they will soon.
The eggs are gone.
The power of House Targaryen has been weakened.
Helaena steps away from the wall, the light spilling from the chamber casting long shadows across her face. She blinks, and suddenly, she sees.
The news will come out.
The dragons will be locked away, kept beneath the Keep, guarded at all hours.
They will grow smaller and smaller—until one day, there will be nothing left of House Targaryen but stories and dust.
Her breath shudders. She grips her arms tightly, the embroidery of her sleeves soothing beneath her fingertips. She turns sharply, making a quiet escape before her presence is noticed.
She needs to get away.
She walks with purpose through the castle, ignoring the murmuring servants and the frantic movements of the guards. When she reaches her chambers, the familiarity soothes her—the soft chirps and rustling of her insects filling the space.
She dismisses her attendants without a word, retrieving her favorite shawl and wrapping it tightly around her shoulders. Stepping out onto the balcony, she allows the cool air to brush against her skin, grounding her.
When the tension in her chest loosens, she turns back inside, walking toward a small wooden crate. Lifting the lid, she watches as a millipede crawls across her open palm, its tiny legs tickling her skin. She watches and waits.
It doesn’t take long.
Aemond doesn’t take long to burst into her room, the scent of smoke and dragon clinging to him like a second skin. His breaths come in short, uneven bursts, his eyes still red-rimmed from crying.
“Where’s Mother?” His voice is hoarse, thick with frustration.
“In the Small Council,” Helaena answers calmly, watching him closely. Her gaze flickers over the scratches on his palms, the tear tracks staining his cheeks, and, most of all, the fierce, wounded look in his eyes.
She tilts her head slightly, nose scrunching. “You’ve done it again. What happened?”
His mouth opens as if to deny it, but then his face twists, his fists clenching at his sides.
“They gave me a pig!”
The words spill from him like venom, his voice crackling with fury, with something bitter and betrayed.
Helaena blinks, absorbing this. She presses her lips together, thinking.
“That’s not nice,” she says after a pause. “They shouldn’t have done that.”
She turns away, carefully placing the millipede back into its crate before stepping closer to her younger brother. Lifting a hand, she rests it lightly on his shoulder. There’s a hesitance to the way she tugs him forward, mimicking the gentle embrace she’s seen their mother give time and time again.
For a moment, Aemond stiffens.
Then, slowly, he exhales and clings to her just as tightly.
The hug is brief but grounding.
When she pulls back, she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t comment on the way his breathing has evened, or the tension in his shoulders has lessened. Instead, she turns away, moving toward the table where parchment and ink sit waiting.
“What are you doing?” Aemond watches her warily as she uncaps the inkwell.
“Writing a letter.”
She doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t explain the flicker of certainty in her chest or the reason her fingers don’t hesitate as she puts quill to parchment.
“To who—”
Before he can press further, their mother’s voice cuts through the chamber, sharp and panicked.
“Aemond! What’s happened? What have you done? How many times have you been warned?”
Alicent rushes in, her hands fluttering over Aemond’s face, his arms, searching for injuries.
Helaena listens half-heartedly, the sound of her mother’s concern fading into the background as she finishes writing, the quill scratching lightly against the parchment.
Sealing the letter with the Targaryen sigil, she tucks it carefully into her dress, standing just as her mother’s voice breaks through the air again.
“-will have a dragon one day.”
Her fingers brush against the fabric of her gown.
“He’ll have to close an eye.”
No one hears her.
Without another word, Helaena turns and quietly leaves the room, slipping into the hall to send her letter off.
“So then I went down to the docks and saw so many things—the boats were huge! And there were all kinds of things being sold, pearls, weapons, maps. Oh! I got you a few. Have I told you about the food? No? Well, it was really good. They had these crab cakes with cheese inside. I swear, Hiccup, they were the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’ll have to bring you one next time. Oh! And did I tell you—”
Hiccup sits at the small table, listening with half an ear as Ellie rambles on, her energy never seeming to wane.
It’s been nearly a week since they arrived in Oldtown, and though she’s been making the most of their time, exploring every alley and marketplace with endless enthusiasm, Hiccup’s focus has been elsewhere.
Despite his best efforts, he still hasn’t come up with a solid plan to get into the Citadel’s archives. He’s scoured the city for any books on Valyria, but all he’s managed to procure are scattered, handwritten notes, many of them likely unreliable, stories twisted by time and imagination.
I need to get into the Citadel.
The thought gnaws at him. The idea of sneaking in had briefly crossed his mind, but breaking into one of the most secure places in Westeros wasn’t exactly a risk he wanted to take. He could try simply asking to read their books, but he knew that wasn’t going to work.
Maybe.
His fingers drum against the table as Ellie continues her story, now describing the people she’d seen at the docks. He barely registers her words until—
“Did you know that there’s a dragon that lives here?”
Hiccup’s head snaps up.
“What?”
Ellie smirks, her tone smug. “That got your attention.” She flips through one of the books he’d bought her a few days ago, acting nonchalant before finally continuing. “The dragon Tessarion belongs to Daeron Targaryen—the King’s youngest son. He’s been fostered here with his mother’s family for a few years now.”
Hiccup hums in thought. He hadn’t noticed any dragons since arriving in the city. If Tessarion was here, then he must be kept somewhere secure. Interesting.
Ellie must see the look on his face because she cocks her head to the side, frowning. “What’s on your mind?”
Hiccup exhales a deep sigh and leans back in his chair, tilting his head up toward the ceiling before groaning and throwing himself onto his cot. His voice comes out muffled against the pillow.
“I don’t know how to get into the Citadel. I need to read those books, but I can’t think of a way to do it without losing an eye—which, according to that half-blind merchant, is one of the better punishments.” Hiccup shuddered, recalling the man’s milky, sightless eye as he gestured to it with unsettling nonchalance.
Ellie snorts. “Have you tried just asking?”
Hiccup lifts his head, giving her a look.
She throws her pillow at him. He doesn’t even bother dodging, letting it hit him square in the face.
“Fine. Just lie your way in.”
“And if I get caught?” Hiccup scoffs, sitting up. “I like my eyes, thanks.”
Ellie hums, tapping her chin. “Then I’ll come with you, and if something goes wrong, we’ll fight our way out.” She grins, spinning her sword dramatically as if facing an invisible enemy.
Hiccup rolls his eyes. “Ellie, they don’t allow girls in the Citadel.” He sighs. “Which, by the way, is absolute sheep shit. You have every right to learn as much as any boy does.”
Before he can continue ranting, he turns just in time to see Ellie grab her dagger and—
Shhk!
His jaw drops.
“ELLIE!”
She runs her fingers through her now short, uneven hair, strands falling to the floor in messy clumps. A crooked grin spreads across her face.
“There.” She shakes her head, letting the last few loose strands fall. “Now they won’t know I’m a girl.”
Hiccup is horrified. He crosses the room in three steps, hands hovering near her shoulders, unsure whether to shake her or start picking up the butchered locks.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, voice still caught between shock and exasperation. “They might not even believe our lie!”
Ellie shrugs, rubbing at the back of her newly exposed neck. She still looks a little startled by her own impulsiveness, but there’s something firm in her gaze when she meets his eyes.
“I know what finding answers means to you, Hiccup,” she says quietly. “I see how much it’s been bothering you. I see how you stay up at night, going through the same notes over and over again, hoping you missed something.”
Hiccup clenches his jaw, looking away.
He can’t help but see her differently now, not as a girl caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, but as someone who had chosen this life. Chosen him. Her hair was uneven, her shoulders tense, but her eyes… her eyes were steady.
It scared him. How easily she’d risked herself for his sake.
She tightens her grip on his arm.
“You’re my family. I’m with you till the end of the line.”
The words hit him like a blow to the chest.
Without thinking, he pulls her into a tight embrace.
How far they’ve come.
Hiccup remembers the timid girl he met in King’s Landing, the way she’d flinched at loud noises, the way her fingers had curled tightly around whatever she could grasp, fabric, weapons, his wrist, anything to ground herself.
She had been uncertain, hesitant. Yet, never once had she used her sword against him. Instead, she had followed. She had learned. She had helped him search for his people, his answers, even when she didn’t fully understand what that meant.
She had become his family.
A little sister.
Or maybe… something more.
Not by blood.
But by choice.
“You’re my family too,” he murmurs into her hair, voice raw with something unspoken. “The only person I’ve got in this world. And I swear, by Odin, you will live. I’ll protect you. I’ll never abandon you.”
She nods against his chest, gripping his tunic with small, fierce hands before finally pulling away.
A watery smile plays on her lips, her face still flushed from the intensity of the moment.
“Well.” Hiccup clears his throat, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Now—let’s fix this disaster of a haircut.”
Ellie groans as he drags her toward the chair, already reaching for his knife.
Hiccup stood stiffly in front of the desk, his patience wearing thin as the old man in front of him continued scratching away with his quill, entirely ignoring their presence. The steady, deliberate strokes of ink against parchment grated on his nerves, amplifying the frustration that had already settled in his chest. Ten minutes. They had been standing here for ten whole minutes.
Beside him, Ellie swung her arms idly, glancing around the pristine stone room with thinly veiled boredom. Dressed in boy’s clothes, her newly shorn hair framed her face in uneven layers, cut short to better sell the illusion of ‘Elys.’ It reminded Hiccup of his own hair when he was fifteen—only hers was darker, nearly black under the dim lighting of the room.
The scratching of the quill halted abruptly. Hiccup snapped his attention back to the old man, watching as he methodically set the quill down, folded his hands together, and finally—finally—acknowledged them with a sharp, assessing gaze.
He said nothing. Just stared.
Hiccup exchanged a glance with Ellie, who shifted slightly under the scrutiny. He cleared his throat and forced an easy smile. “I’m Hiccup, and this is my ward, Elys. We’ve come to study some of the books housed within the Citadel.”
The old man narrowed his eyes, his expression unreadable, before sighing and reaching into a wooden box at his side. He flipped open the lid and sifted through a stack of unsealed letters, his fingers gliding over the pages as though searching for something specific. After a moment, he stopped, pulling one letter free and placing it on the desk in front of him while discarding the rest back into the box.
“Yes. Hiccup, you said your name was.” The man’s voice was raspy with age, but there was a pointed weight to his tone. “You’re right on time.”
Hiccup blinked. On time for what?
The old man continued, entirely unfazed by Hiccup’s confusion. “The princess has sent word of your impending arrival—with your ward. As it is a royal command, signed by the princess herself, the Citadel has agreed to grant you both the necessary access for study and research.”
Hiccup’s mind reeled. The princess? His thoughts scrambled for an explanation, but he kept his face carefully neutral. Helaena. It had to be her. He didn’t know how she knew, but if her dream-given knowledge extended this far, he wasn’t about to question it.
“Uh… yes, well,” Hiccup stammered, trying to find his footing in the conversation. “That’s… excellent news. I, uh—” He forced a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be sure to thank the princess personally.”
Beside him, Ellie coughed awkwardly.
The old man simply hummed in acknowledgment, already losing interest. He gestured vaguely to the hallway. “You may proceed to the library. Head left, then right—you won’t miss it. A student will be along shortly to show you to your quarters.”
Just like that, they were dismissed. The old man picked up his quill and resumed writing, no longer sparing them a glance.
Hiccup wasted no time steering Ellie toward the hallway, keeping his steps even and casual. It wasn’t until they were far enough from the desk that he released a slow, shaky breath.
Ellie, however, was quick to latch onto the glaring issue. “What does he mean by a letter? Did you tell someone we’re here? Do you think he knows something? Should we run? Do you think they—”
“I don’t know,” Hiccup muttered, dragging her along as he turned down the next corridor. “No, I didn’t tell anyone. I think I know what happened, but I’d rather not talk about it here, in a place full of the most curious people in Westeros.” He shot her a pointed look.
Ellie snapped her mouth shut, her eyes darting around the halls suspiciously, but she nodded.
The hallway stretched long before them, but light soon filtered through an arched opening ahead. The moment they stepped through, Hiccup halted in his tracks, his breath catching.
“Whoa,” Ellie breathed beside him.
The library was massive. They stood on an elevated floor, surrounded by towering bookcases, their wooden spines stretching toward the high ceilings. Beyond the railing at the edge of their platform, the entire structure opened up to a hollowed-out center that extended deep below them and high above. Chandeliers of gleaming gold hung from thick wooden beams, the light from the windows catching on their intricate designs.
Everywhere he looked, there were books. Scrolls. Stacks of parchment. Rushing between the endless shelves were men in white robes, moving with purpose, their arms laden with tomes.
Hiccup stepped forward slowly, running his fingers over the spines of a few books as he made his way toward the railing. He had seen grand halls in Berk, had marveled at the hidden wonders of the world—but this…
This was something else entirely.
“You think we can find something here?” Ellie asked, her voice laced with awe.
Hiccup swallowed thickly, staring at the rows upon rows of knowledge that lay before them.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
But for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was getting closer.